Breathe
by SassStressAndCaffeine
Summary: "Breathe Foster, you're safe" He's whispering, murmuring gently to her as she leans into him. Keefe's eyes are still clouded with sleep, but his voice is clear as he comforts her. It's been a month since she came back. He'd carried her out of the Neverseen hold, wrapped in his cloak as he repeated that same sentence. Breathe.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N OK be warned, the mature rating on this story** _ **is on here for a reason**_ **. For some reason people in this section of the site like to slap on M warnings because someone cursed once, or the word sex was uttered. I repeat,** _ **this is not that story**_ **. I welcome reviews and feedback, and I hope you enjoy the story, but know what you're going to be reading ahead of time. Fanfiction puts the age guideline for membership at 13, and honestly, I'd avoid this story if you're under that. Hell, even if you are 13, proceed carefully. It depends on the kind of books you read (story doesn't get that dark, but still, I don't want to scar anyone), just be warned this earns its rating. I don't know if this will remain a one shot or continue, kinda depends on my free time (ha, ha, ha) and motivation (double ha). That said, enjoy! It's kinda au-y, and figure it's set a bit forward in time, ages 17ish.**

The wall of the cell is digging into her back, hard enough to bruise. She can smell the wine on his breath as he pins her there, sneering while she thrashes against his grip. He's stronger than she is, so much stronger after the weeks of imprisonment, of blades and burns that have left new scars on her. She struggles harder, desperately reaching for any of her abilities, fighting her own mind through a haze of drugs, pain and fatigue. He's ripped her shirt, his fingers digging into her ribcage with a grip like steel as that cruel grin leers at her. Her friends . . . her family, someone has to come for her. She can't, she won't let him do this, not after she's fought through so much.

"They're not coming little moonlark, you failed them. No one's going to save you this time." His sing-songy tone is enough to set her teeth on edge. "Maybe when we find them, Fintan will let me play with them once he's done. See how loud lover-boy and the Vacker brats can scream." His knee is pinning her legs apart as he fumbles at the band of her leggings. "See how loud you can scream." His hoarse laugh sends another cloud of alcohol drenched breath at her. Her eyes search desperately for the door, seeking any hint of a rescue . . . they have to come, they-

Suddenly his breath is far too hot, his touch burning her as everblaze traces over his hands. She finally gathers the strength to shove him, adrenaline filling her at the fire. He laughs, yellow flame dancing in his eyes now and she stumbles back, back into the dark of the corner of the cell. It's like stepping into ice water, worse than the fire as a thousand icy needles stab at her, cutting off her senses. Waves of darkness wash over her, choking air from her lungs. She can't breathe, can't move, can't-

Sophie jerks awake, soaked and shivering in cold sweat, shaking harder with every pounding beat of her heart. She stumbles from her bed, fleeing to the bathroom as bile rises in her throat, her legs refusing to cooperate. She makes it to the toilet before her stomach heaves, emptying everything she'd eaten that day. Again and again, her body still feeling like that darkness is roiling through it.

A hand brushes her hair off of her shoulders, then gently presses her back. He's rubbing circles over her shoulder blades, trying to stop the heaving shudders that continue long after her nausea has faded.

"Breathe Foster, you're safe" He's whispering, murmuring gently to her as she leans into him. Keefe's eyes are still clouded with sleep, but his voice is clear as he comforts her. It's been a month since she came back. Since the day he blasted that cell door open and sent Ruy flying into the wall, barely a minute from being too late. He'd carried her out of the Neverseen hold, wrapped in his cloak as he repeated that same sentence. Breathe. She didn't remember most of the time she'd spent in the healing center, as Elwin covered her in various salves and ointments to heal the burns and bruises, to treat and fade the angry marks from Vespera's knives and the shamkniv. The nightmares have been a constant ever since she returned, dragging her from sleep every night. Most nights, she ends up in Keefe's room after the initial episode. It doesn't work all the time, but that same bond that lets him pull her out of inflicting hazes helps keep the nightmares at bay. She leans back further, letting the warmth of his bare chest assuage her shivering.

"Sorry," she murmurs when she can muster the ability to speak again. He keeps stroking her hair, her forehead resting against his cheek.

"Sorry for what, Foster?" She shifts, slowly rising back to her feet. The convulsive shuddering has stopped, but her legs still shake.

"Waking you up. Both of us don't have lose our sleep every night." The hazy, half-asleep look has faded from his eyes, and that ice blue now focuses on her as he stands.

"You're right, I'll sleep great knowing the girl I love is convulsing from a panic attack in the bathroom." His expression softens as he steps closer, gripping her wrists. He's studying her, making sure she's stopped shaking, that she won't collapse again when he steps back out. "You good?" Sophie nods in response, managing a half smile as he kisses her forehead and slips back out to his room. She knows he'll wait while she showers until the sour smell of vomit is gone, while she scrubs her hair dry with a towel, too tired to use whatever the elven hair dryer is called and dons another oversized t-shirt to sleep in. She's right, when she steps into his room he's sitting cross legged in a pair of too-short pajama pants, frowning at his sketchbook.

He started staying with them a while ago, maybe two years. He'd tried with Lord Cassius, but, well . . . She still remembers him showing up in the dark that night, Edaline taking one look at the bruise under his eye and saying yes before Grady could even open his mouth. Her dad had thrown a fit the next morning, when they'd fallen asleep together on the couch. He'd been less than happy when it turned out the only extra space the gnomes could use for a room for him was directly next to Sophie's, but had managed to only spend two days grumbling about it.

"Can I see?" His head jerks up and she gestures at the sketchbook.

"When it's done." He grins, tossing the book in the general direction of his desk (and missing). She joins him on the oversized chair, not ready to risk closing her eyes again. He shifts so she has room, pulling her against him with one arm. Sophie rests her head on his shoulder, humming contentedly as he brushes her hair.

"You worry me Foster, I know you don't want to talk to Alden or Forkle about it, but isn't there anyone?" She tilts her head so she can see him. "It's been a month, they're not going away."

"I know, I just . . ." She trails off. Sophie doesn't actually have a reason, apart from just not wanting to deal with it all. Keefe hadn't told anyone what had happened in that cell, had said it was her decision, and she had kept any detail about her captivity she could to herself.

"You could talk to Elwin maybe, he might have something you could take. Or Edaline, or-"

"Don't even say Grady, if I breathe a word of it to him he'll go off on a one-man mission to kill Ruy and Vespera."

"I'll join him." His voice has hardened, and when she looks up again his expression is colder, more distant. She never asked him what state he found her in, what the wounds Elwin healed looked like before all the elixirs and ointments. She knows he stayed with her through it, knows not because she remembers but because he loves her. Maybe too much, he has his own scars to prove it.

"Hey" His voice is soft again as he gently catches her hand. She'd started tracing one of the pale, faded lines still visible on his back. He tilts her head until they're eye to eye. "They're not your fault Sophie, it was my choice." No, not her fault, but still because of her. Because he had taken that whip when Brant captured them two years ago, taken that suffering over giving up her secrets. A minute Elwin had said, a minute later with that escape and he would have died from the blood loss. He's still watching her with concern.

"I'm fine, sorry, just thinking." His eyes narrow at her.

"What is it now, five years? And you're still trying to lie to an Empath." She laughs as he shakes his head in mock exasperation. "See? Happy thoughts Foster, happy thoughts. Not even that hard, your incredibly sexy boyfriend is shirtless and cuddling with you, what's there to be sad about anyway?" He grins at her when she knocks him on the shoulder, any trace of his earlier distant, cold expression gone from his eyes. She smiles, stretching up to kiss him. She'll do anything to keep that grin on his face after so long with a brittle, distant smile covering the hurt and confusion inside him.

His lips taste vaguely of peppermint, from whatever rinse he uses at night, and he pulls her further into his lap as her arms wrap over his shoulders. His chest is warm through the thin fabric of her shirt, and he's murmuring he loves her as he trails kisses over her jaw and neck. He always does that, refuses to remain kissing her lips, as if he's afraid of it. She teased him about it once, and he said it was just because he wanted to "love every inch of her" in a voice that made her toes curl before she pushed him against the wall and didn't let go until she couldn't remember her own name.

Keefe's hands slide over her hips, hiking her shirt up with them, as his lips reach her collarbones. Her back arches as he brushes a spot on her neck, and she tugs him back to her lips by his hair. His hands circle higher, until his knuckles are lightly tracing circles over the underside of her breasts. Gently, she pulls back enough to disentangle the top half of her body from his. Instantly, his hands are gone, and she can see the worry in his eyes that he's pushed too far, or hurt her in some way. Sophie presses a finger to his lips, already half open in an apology, before reaching down to the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. He's seen her chest bare before, once or twice, but it's rare they go this far. Even now, his eyes are locked on hers, making sure she knows what she's doing, but she's done caring what they do. She trusts him, loves him, and she needs the reminder that this kind of touch is supposed to be love and not pain. And so, her response to his questioning raised eyebrow is just to re-tangle her hands in his hair and pull him close to kiss him again. They're chest to chest now, her breasts stiff from the night air even with his body heat.

She's barely touched his lips when he pulls her legs around his waist, never ceasing contact as he carries her over to his bed, falling into the ridiculous amount of pillows at the head of it. He's above her now, one leg braced between hers to keep from crushing her. Keefe's pulled back, propping himself up further with his arm as his eyes rake up from her legs back to her face.

"Shit." He's out of breath as leans back down, his eyes glazed slightly.

"Mmmhm?" She tilts her chin up in question, eyebrows raised. His grin is back as he presses his lips to hers once more, his arms snaking back around her.

"I always forget how beautiful you are." His face is inches from hers, propped on the hand next to her head.

"So all I have to do for compliments is strip down to my underwear?" She stretches up to close the distance between them, twining her fingers through the mess of blonde hair on his head.

"I wouldn't- mmmPH" he grits his teeth as she presses kisses over his jaw, nipping at his ear as she drifts lower, her fingers tracing the grooves of his muscled stomach and the vee of his hips, "object." Keefe barely manages to get the last word out, groaning against her lips as she arches her back to reach him, pushing her breasts against his chest.

"Damnit Sophie!" He's panting as he pins her hands above her head with one arm, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. "You're not . . . making it easy . . . to stop . . . tonight." She knows. She can feel as much anytime he leans down too far and the evidence of that pushes against her leg. And it's her turn to grin like feral animal as she braces a hand on his chest and meets his eyes.

"Then don't." It takes a moment, but she sees his eyes widen as he realizes what she's just said.

"Are- are you- you mean-" She cuts him off as she tugs him down, flush against her, to kiss him.

"I love you Keefe Sencen, for whatever that's worth in this screwed up world." He smiles, arms on either side of her head as he kisses her nose.

"Craziest thing you've said all night Foster, but you're avoiding my question." She takes a shaky breath, realizing what she's about to say, then, meeting Keefe's eyes again, does her best imitation of his infamous smirk.

"You said you wanted to love every inch of me." He cocks his head at her, a silent question over her meaning. "So prove it. Love me." She cups his face in her hands as she kisses him this time, letting her Enhancer ability give him a read on exactly what her emotions are. Sophie feels him stiffen as it sinks in, then press flush against her once more. His hands slide back to her hips as he searches her eyes, confirming she's serious about this. She manages to nod, even as his lips trail over her neck, sucking gently on that spot just below her ear.

"Say the word Foster, and I stop. No matter what, even if I have to spend the rest of the night in a bucket of ice, I'll stop." He's murmuring into her skin between kisses, sinking ever lower. Shoulder. Collar bone. His lips brush the top of her breast as one hand climbs back to her ribcage, the other continuing those slow circles over the curve of her hip. Her breasts are heavy and aching by now, from a combination of the December night air and his touch. His lips gently trace between them, every touch leaving a trail of fire behind it. Every brush of his hand against the underside of one feels like an electric shock to her brain, dragging her out until she's gasping at each. Finally, finally, he palms one, thumb brushing her nipple in an effort to further torment her. She's about to curse him for the teasing when his mouth seals over the other, alternatively nipping at its edge and sucking to offset the pain. Her hips jerk, grinding against his at the sudden contact. After his slow, torturous movements, she takes no small satisfaction as he responds by burying his face in her shoulder, groaning.

"Argh . . . shit. If . . . if you keep that up Sophie, we're not getting very far." She runs her fingers through his hair as she kisses the side of his jaw.

"Then quit teasing you ass- AH" His tongue flicks over her nipple, teeth nipping just below.

"But my name on your lips has such a nice ring to it." He's switched breasts, his left hand taking his mouth's place. Shit. If his bracing leg inches any higher, he's going to find out exactly what he's doing to her. As if he's read her mind, his right hand dips dangerously low, tracing over the top hem of her underwear. The world fades out as every ounce of focus in her body lasers straight to that hand, now brushing up her inner thigh from knee.

"Kee-eefe . . . please" He glances up at her, a faux innocent look plastered on his face.

"Hmmm?" His irrepressible smirk breaks through as she's forced to bite her lip when that hand traces ever higher on her leg.

"Just stop tea-" Bastard. Rotten bastard. If he hadn't clamped his lips over hers, she would have screamed when his thumb brushed straight over her center, the thin material of her panties so soaked at this point it might as well as have not been there. He remains covering her mouth, making shushing noises into her lips as his thumb traces a circle right over that bundle of nerves. She spreads her legs wider, trying in vain to force his hand down by less than a centimeter.

"Keefe . . Keefe pleassssee" She can barely form words as she whispers against him, his leg blocking her from thrusting her hips against his hand.

"Patience love" Wicked is the only term she can think of to describe his smirk at that moment. She glares, or tries, at him.

"You're enjoying this." That smirk is still there as he leans down, lips tracing downwards from her throat once more.

"The sight of my girlfriend naked and moaning my name under me?" One finger hooks under the edge of her underwear.

"Yes," he pulls the first edge to the center "I" a second finger pulls the other edge in "am" he hooks that finger all the way through and sharply tugs her panties down to her ankles, releasing the pressure on her hips to allow her to lift them.

His lips have reached the edge of her stomach, and she feels him rise, moving backwards until his face is even with her sex. He braces one hand on her hips, holding them even with the bed. She whines in protest, and he arches an eyebrow.

"Planning on breaking my nose Foster?" She swears at him as he drags his finger through her center once more, stopping just short of where she so desperately needs him. He continues tracing over her hips and thighs with his mouth, leaving trails of kisses she's sure are on fire for all his touch burns. Finally, he stops, barely an inch from where she aches. Her begging isn't even coherent speech, just a series of moans followed by his name. She can feel his breath on her, tickling her even as his hands still, firmly holding her hips to the bed.

"Want something Foster? I can't make out what you're saying." Bastard. Absolute bastard for that. Sophie tries to steady her breathing, managing to open her previously screwed shut eyes. She glances down, nearly coming undone at the sight of him smirking from between her legs. She's just opened her mouth to plead once more when his tongue flicks over that bundle of nerves and it's all she can do to keep from screaming loud enough for everyone in the elven world to hear. She can't see, can't hear, can't feel anything other than his tongue slowly stroking over her. She loses track of time, until she feels him shift slightly to move his hand. A finger brushes at her entrance as he continues to suck at that pearl at the apex of her thighs. He pauses, glancing at her before pushing any farther.

"Don't . . . stop. Don't . . .ever stop. Please" She doesn't care if it will hurt, doesn't care about anything but sating the burning ache between her legs. He's gentle as he slips that first finger in, lets her adjust around it before slowly moving in and out. Her hands are fisted in his sheets, doing everything in her power to keep from making any noise that would wake up the rest of the house. Then he carefully, slowly, pushes a second finger inside of her. She feelings the beginnings of pain at the stretch, but they're buried under whatever the hell he's doing with his mouth. And from there, it's a kind of slow torture as those fingers move so slowly and his tongue flicks faster and faster over that nerve, then stops the moment he feels her approach release. She's begging as loudly as she dares before he finally crooks those fingers, brushing that spot within her and her vision swims. He rides her through that first one, gently licking over her center as she convulses.

The next thing she's consciously aware of is Keefe kissing the sweat off her brow, his hands slowly stroking her hips.

"Shh Foster, shh. You're OK, shh" There's slight worry in his eyes as he looks at her. She blinks in confusion, opening her mouth to start the question. He snorts. "You blacked out on me for a minute." The fading heat in her cheeks rushes back at that, and he laughs at her reaction before gently kissing her. He caresses her face, brushing her now messy hair back behind her ears.

"I love you Sophie, more than anyone else in the world." His hands keep stroking those circles over her hips, not to excite, but comfort. He laughs as he says "You don't have to respond to that by the way, you've reassured me you love me eighteen times in the past minute." She pushes herself into a sitting position, winding her arms around his back as she kisses him once more, deepening it as his own hands press her, drawing her closer. When they pull apart, she can see his eyes are shining, and he's doing his fair share of shaking. It's a stark reminder to her that, even after what he's just done, this is new to him as well. He grins, shoving his own stray hair strands out of his eyes as his hands settle on her hips.

"Well?" She echoes his grin with one of her own before pulling him back down into the pillows, letting him settle over her. Even with barely five minutes passed, she can feel that ache growing once more as his hands glide over her.

"Keefe," she says, smirking, "is there a reason you're still wearing pants?" His eyes widen in surprise for the second time that night.

"You're sure? Even after th-" She takes his distraction to snake her arm past his and palm him through his pajamas, an action that causes him to drop onto her like a stone, biting into her shoulder hard enough to draw blood as he barks a muffled curse against her.

"Fuck, Sophie. Do you _want_ Grady to kick down the door?" She smiles, hooking her fingers into his waistband.

"All you did to me and I managed to keep quiet, but one pants covered brush and you turn into a vampire?" She arches her eyebrows teasingly at him. He re-gathers his breath and gently traces his hands up around her shoulder blades, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She knows the surprise is genuine, that he was truly willing to curl up next to her and fall asleep, no matter his own desires.

"If you're sure you want to do this Foster, I'm all yours." Sophie gently pushes him off her enough that she can reach his waist once more, hesitating for a moment. For all he's seen of her, she's never seen him in any state of undress past this. Hell, besides a few scattered memories from her human life or the random collection of images Biana found somewhere, she's never seen _any_ boy past this. Still, she forces her hands to stop shaking as she pulls his pajamas to his knees, then shifts so he can move to kick them off. Keefe rolls back over her, gently kissing her as he repositions himself between her legs.

It's her turn to drag her gaze down his body, over the chest muscled from sparring with Sandor to the powerful thighs and aching length of him. She wraps her hand around him, gently brushing her thumb over his head. It isn't until he groans that she looks up and sees his eyes screwed closed and jaw locked, breath coming out in pants.

"Play. later. _Please_." She laughs, but releases him, shifting to let him settle fully between her legs. He tangles his free hand in her hair and watches her closely as he guides himself to her entrance. She feels the first stretch as he sinks in an inch, the tight pain as he parts her. He's bigger than those fingers, than anything she's ever done, and it hurts. He must see the pain on her face, or feel it through his abilities, because he freezes, gently stroking her hair.

"You're in charge Foster, just tell me." It hurts, yes, but if she has to take it inch by inch, it will be agony. Sophie wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

"Just do it Keefe." She feels him tense in surprise, meeting her eyes once more to make sure he heard her right.

"You're sure?" She can feel him aching to move, to give in to every instinct telling him to take her as hard as he can, but she knows he won't move even a hair if she says no.

"Do it." She grits her teeth as he grips her hips and thrusts in, seating himself in her in one smooth motion. She feels the sharp tearing sensation, then the duller pain from the stretch.

"Sophie?" She opens her eyes to meet Keefe's, wide with concern.

"I'm fine, just . . don't move." The pain is fading slowly, and she can feel his hands returning to those wide circles over her hips. She feels him nudge her gently, a questioning look in his eyes as he braces himself above her. Sophie takes a deep breath, then retwines her hands over his shoulders. "You're good." He begins to move, slowly at first, until the pain cedes to pleasure and she's urging him faster and faster. She doesn't know when it happens, but at some point she forgets where she ends and he begins. Their bond, that lets them find each other, that lets him calm her inflicting, whatever it is, snaps between them, strong as iron. She can feel him, not just the physical sensation of him that makes her feel like she's burning up on the spot, but his mind, his emotions, everything that makes him Keefe, as she buries her head in his shoulder and begs him to go faster, to create more of that delicious friction. She forgets her own name, where she is, as he lifts her around his waist and they press fully against the headboard.

She can feel the heat rising between them, the energy building in her core with every motion; welcomes it because it burns the memory of Ruy, of a dark cell and a cold, steel table from her body, replaces it with the warmth of Keefe's touch, with the feeling of his training-calloused hands running up her back to pull her closer. His lips find hers once more as that energy hits its peak, and they stay like that, tangled together in a mountain of pillows as the high slowly fades. Keefe slowly raises his head from where he's buried it in her shoulder, strands of his towheaded mop of hair brushing down across his forehead.

"Whoa" He grins weakly at her. She snorts at his response, at how completely like him it is.

"Guess we've got a new cure for getting rid of nightmares". She regrets her words the second that smirk cuts across his face.

"I don't know Foster, might have to test it a few more times before we know definitively" Keefe's teeth brush that spot on her neck and she playfully shoves him back.

"Oh no, Mr. One Track Mind, I actually want to sleep tonight". He waggles his eyebrows at her, then pulls himself higher on the bed so he can rest his head on hers.

"Tomorrow then." She rolls her eyes, failing to hide her smile.

"Incorrigible" she mutters, hiding her laughter by nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. His hands are tracing over her, sliding over the scars and marks the war has left on her. She'd made Elwin leave them, wanting the reminder of what she'd survived, that the Neverseen hadn't broken her, letting him remove only the brands and burn marks from her skin. Sophie suspected Keefe had made the same request, though born of his need to feel he had atoned for any and every past crime. Of all the wounds Lord Cassius's abuse and neglect had left, it was that lack of worthiness that made her blood boil. That because of him, the beautiful, kind, wonderful person currently looking at her like she was the only one in the world that mattered believed he would never be good enough, never deserve anything he had. That because of him, Keefe's serious when he tells her he loves her more than anyone else he's known.

"Foster? You OK?" Sophie's pulled from her thoughts to see those ice blue eyes looking at her quizzically.

"Yeah, just . . ." She considers not finishing the sentence, but the moment the thought passes through her mind, he's already opening his mouth, 'you can't lie to an empath' on the tip of his tongue. Sophie sighs. "I really hate your dad". Keefe blinks at her, confused.

"Dad's a strong word Foster, but trust me, the feeling's mutual." His voice is bitter, the previous warmth draining from it, and she curses herself for causing that. It must have shown in her expression, because he manages a half smile, brushing a thumb over her cheek.

"Don't worry about me Sophie, I've got all I need" She smiles, leaning into his hand.

"Are you sure you're not the telepath in this relationship?"

"Fairly." His hands are tracing over her shoulders, and it's not until he brushes over the edge between her left one and her neck that she flinches.

"Oh shit, I didn't realize . . ." He trails off as he pushes her hair back, the bite mark from earlier visible there. He hadn't cut deep, but it was clear some sort of treatment was going to be necessary. He smirks at her. "Good luck explaining that one to Elwin." She winces internally at even the thought of that conversation.

"No, Biana's taking me to Mysterium to go shopping tomorrow anyway, we'll just stop at Kesler's and grab a salve or something." Sophie's never been so grateful for Biana's shopping addiction. Keefe's lips twist at her comment, a sheepish look falling over his face.

"You should probably stop there anyway, I mean," he trails off, his hand tracing circles on her hip. She arches an eyebrow at him. "I didn't-" he clears his throat, glancing to the side. It takes her second to realize what he means, the distraction of Keefe Sencen actually blushing occupying her mind.

"Oh." The reminder of what, exactly, they'd spent the night doing hit her. "Shit" Sophie groans into her hand, falling back onto the pillow. Keefe runs a hand through his hair, his face still the color of a strawberry.

"Sorry, I- I should've-"

"No, it's not that, just," she bites her lip as she rolls to face him again, "I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to buy whatever from _Kesler_ of all people, and if he tells Grady, and I'm going to have to explain to Biana somehow- Oh god." A worse possibility hits her. "What if Dex is running the counter tomorrow, how am I supposed to even look at him buying that, aghhhh" Her mood isn't helped by the fact that Keefe is back to grinning at her when she re-opens her eyes. She smacks him with a pillow. "You're enjoying this." He grabs the second pillow from her before she can hit him again, lips twitching.

"Maybe." He wraps his arm around her again when she glares at him. "Hey, worst case scenario, Grady makes me sleep in the barn-" She arches an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Worst case scenario, Grady feeds you to the T-Rex Keefe." He shrugs

"Pft, Verdi loves me. Now, enough making up nightmares to worry yourself to death with Foster, you've got all of tomorrow to do that". She wriggles enough to lightly jab his side with her elbow at that comment, the five million ways she's going to die of embarrassment tomorrow still running through her head. "Come on Foster, you're not even trying to enjoy our situation here." Keefe shifts in a way that reminds her of exactly how close and exactly how naked they still are.

"You're still incorrigible" she mutters, but lets him pull her back flush against his side, head resting on his shoulder.

"I don't know what that word means, so I'm taking it as a compliment" She rolls her eyes, both sure that Keefe knows exactly what it means and that he's still taking it as a compliment. Distantly, she feels the blanket drop over both of them, pulled from the edge of the bed by his telekinesis. She's happy to let the thrum of his heartbeat lull her to sleep, earlier nightmares far faded from memory.

The next thing Sophie's aware of is the sunlight streaming through the window of Keefe's room, and Keefe struggling to sit up as he glares sleepily at the door. A moment later, she realizes why as a sharp pounding echoes through the house, followed by Biana's exasperated voice.

"I swear, if you two aren't out here in the next five minutes, I'M TELLING GRADY I FOUND YOU NAKED IN BED TOGETHER!" The last part of the threat is shouted so loudly Sophie's pretty sure Grady heard it anyway. Keefe glances down at the both of them, then at the clothes thrown haphazardly around the room from the previous night, and bursts out laughing. Sophie vaguely hears Biana's scream of irritation from the other room, along with the distant sound of running feet from two floors below, presumably Grady sprinting up the stairs. She arches an eyebrow at her still guffawing boyfriend.

"I'd either find our clothes at the speed of light, or hope Verdi _really_ likes you."

A/N Whew . . . ten pages, but it's finally done *15 page research paper due in two days growls from corner* Shh you. So, cuz I have to say this, kids, don't do what Sophie and Keefe did, they're elves and I'm assuming they have a functioning system that dispenses higher quality birth control. Even if you're on the pill or have an IUD, or if your partner is/does, still use protection, STDs aint a joke. OK PSA over, thanks for reading, please review, etc.

Also, if anyone feels this needs a better trigger warning as far as potentially upsetting content, please let me know either in review or pm, I don't want to hurt anyone or bring back past experiences.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N So, it's been a bit, I had exams, finals, study abroad applications (see any French readers soon!) and a few miscellaneous mental breakdowns, but we good, I'm back now. This chapter is a bit shorter than most of them will be, and this story in general is probably just going to turn into a bunch of fluffy Foster-Keefe stuff. Officially ignoring any canon past Nightfall, and probably even some stuff before that because I don't so much have a bone to pick with Shannon Messenger as a population of China's worth of bones to pick with her. Anyway, enjoy this interlude while I work on the next chapter, hopefully out sooner than this update was since I'm off for the summer! Reviews are always appreciated, thanks particularly to Sokeefe55 for the encouragement to continue the story!**

Sophie rolled her eyes as she dashed up the stairs, Biana's shout of "10 minutes! Clock starts now!" carrying after her. She'd thought her friend was going to chuck her breakfast plate at her face when she'd told her she needed to shower before they left. Breakfast had been an . . . interesting experience, between Biana's huffing and Grady's suspicious glare, not helped by Keefe's refusal to stop smirking. Hadn't mattered that they'd been fully dressed and out of bed by the time Grady had made it upstairs, or that even Biana had admitted she was joking, the I-don't-trust-That-Boy glare had remained firmly on his face. Sophie sighed, she still wasn't looking forward to explaining to Biana that _maybe_ she wasn't joking, and that they somehow had to smuggle a birth control tonic out of her uncle's store.

Her shirt was already half off by the time she stepped into her room, door absentmindedly kicked closed behind her with a wince at Iggy's startled fit at the slam. She wouldn't really put it past Biana to physically drag her out of the shower if she takes too long. Pajama pants join the shirt, hurled across the room to be (not) picked up later, as she ducks through the door to the now shared bathroom, eager to be in warm water instead of cool morning air.

She's still trying to figure out how exactly to explain to Biana why they need to stop at Slurps and Burps, only able to firmly decide that it's a story to be told _far_ away from Grady's hearing range. She could make something up about the birth control tonic, say she just wanted her cycle more regular or something. Right, because Biana would in no way be suspicious that she suddenly has to solve a problem she's never mentioned before. Sophie winces slightly as one of the soaps washes down her shoulder; as if the whole thing weren't mortifying enough already, she's also going to have to figure out how to explain the bite mark there.

Soaps and hair tonics washed out, and Sophie's still left standing under the hot water desperately trying to come up with a way to get out of the inevitable conversation with Biana. She's so buried in her thoughts that it isn't until hands slide up her ribs that she realizes she's no longer alone in the shower. Keefe's hands move to cup her breasts, fingers brushing her nipples lightly enough that she arches her back against him and biting her lip as his lips brush under her ear. She twists to face him, his hands sliding back down to her waist. She arches an eyebrow at him.

"Biana will actually murder me if I'm not out of here fast enough"

"Mmhm", he's not even looking at her, eyes gliding over her hips and back up to her shoulders.

"Ahem." The exasperation on her face is more playful than anything, and he knows it as he smirks and leans down to brush his lips against hers.

"Next time the house is empty, we're having our fun in the daylight Foster." She braces a hand on his chest, pushing him back far enough that she can look him in the eye.

"Why?"

"So I can _see_ you." Shit. That, combined with the hunger in his eyes as they continue to trace over ever curve and line of her is enough to crumble the rest of her resolve. Another brush over her lips and she pulling him down to hold him there, leaning in enough that he's pressed against the shower wall. She can hear him groaning her name as her breasts press against his chest, his arousal plenty evident with their bodies pressed flush, hands now tangled tight in her hair. Her own hands are tracing up and down his chest, enjoying the sight of the water droplets beading his muscles.

It's Keefe who finally breaks the kiss, gently pulling away from her, flushed cheeks and hard breaths matching her own.

"Much as I'm opposed to stopping where this is going, Biana did send me up to tell you you had fifteen minutes before she dragged you out the door, regardless of nakedness." Crap. If Sophie has to leave now, like this, with what feels like her very blood on fire, she will not make it out the door, let alone through an entire day of shopping. She has to do something, anything, just to touch him right now. He must have caught the look in her eyes, because that flush on his cheeks grows slightly as he grins.

"Not that the look on your face is making this easier, but there's no way we have enough time, considering you'd have to get dress-" She cuts him off with another kiss, tracing over his jaw and down his neck as an idea hits her. He groans, gritting his teeth in order to speak through it.

"Sophie we don't-" She straightens to brush another kiss to his lips, hands tracing where her mouth had been on his chest.

"I can get dressed fast," she breathes, seeing the hazy look overtake his eyes as she nudges her hips back against his. "Besides," she mimics his own smirk as she kisses down his stomach to kneel before him, "if I remember correctly, I owe you from last night."

It takes him a second before his eyes widen at what she's doing.

"Foster you don't have to- hcK!" His words cut off instantly as she engulfs him in her mouth, sliding down as far as she can before pulling back to take a breath, hand continuing to gently stroke him. She laughs when she glances up at his face, his eyes screwed shut and hands fisted at his sides.

"You're enjoying this," he accuses her between breaths. She brushes her thumb gently over the tip of him.

"Maybe." He recovers himself enough to grin at her.

"If I recall, _you_ passed out my ministrations, high bar there Fos- Nggg" She drags her tongue from base to tip, enjoying the tortured look her teasing brings out.

"That a challenge?" She doesn't give him time to answer, returning to her repayment of his own love that night before. She lets her own hand fall between her legs, working in time to take that edge off. She enjoys this, exploring every sound she can drag from his lips with hand and tongue, the jerk of his hips every time she does something that nearly sends him over the edge. She misses the warning one, lost in her own pleasure as her fingers bring her to her own end. It takes her by surprise when his fingers knot in her hair, pulling her head back to keep from choking her as he spills himself in her mouth. She swallows, gripping his arms to pull herself back up.

Instantly he's brushing a strand of hair out of her face, concern covering his own.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to- you alright and al-" She cuts him off gently with a kiss. They stay like that for a moment, his arms relinking around her back.

"I'm fine Keefe, you just surprised me." His answering smile is sheepish.

"Not exactly an activity I've got much practice with." She snorts.

"Maybe next time you'll even be able to keep your eyes open Mr. I want to see you," she teases, pulling away to turn the water off and grab her towel.

"Next time, if I'm watching my beautiful girlfriend on her knees for me with her hand between her legs," he catches her chin, tilting her head to kiss her once more, "is going to be much shorter." She laughs when he whines as she pulls away to slip back into her room, not a moment too soon as Biana's sharp knock echoes through the room.

"Two minutes, I'm getting dressed Biana!" She can hear her exasperated sigh through the door.

"What the hell were you doing in the shower for 25 minutes then!"

"Procrastinating getting out!" she yells back. No need to mention _how_ exactly she was procrastinating.

Biana's still tapping her foot when Sophie finally emerges, and nearly wrenches her arm off dragging her downstairs to the door.

"Not taking the Leapmaster?" Sophie tries in vain to free her arm from her friend's iron grip.

"We're teleporting." Sophie groans.

"Whyyyy Biana, lightleaping is so much faster-" Biana cuts her off with a glare.

"Not one word about faster Ms. Made Us An Hour Late Already, besides, teleporting is way more fun" Biana finally stops dragging her near Calla, far on the edge of Havenfield.

"Fun for you maybe," Sophie mutters. Biana waves a dismissive hand.

"Oh like it's that bad. You ready? Some of the stores close early and I don't want to miss them," She turns towards the cliff edge, straightening the skirt of her tunic.

"Oh! Um, could we maybe stop at Slurps and Burps before we start? I, uh, have to grab something," She trails off as Biana turns to face her with a suspicious look. Damn. Sophie'd never been good at acting normal.

"It can't wait?" Sophie resists the urge to tug out an eyelash.

"No, sorry," Biana's eyes narrow further.

"What the hell is so urgent that it both can't be even a tiny bit delayed _and_ so unmemorable that you couldn't be bothered to mention it til now?" Biana huffs, "I would have worked it into our schedule."

Sophie resists the urge to roll her eyes at the fact that Biana has a schedule, no doubt with times per store section mapped out.

"I, uh, need to a grab a cycle tonic." Biana nods, the suspicion gone.

"Ugh, I'd get one for my cramps, but the second I even mentioned it Dad freaked and started interrogating me about my 'secret boyfriend'," she rolls her eyes, "The cramp ones don't even _work_ like that, but whatever. I'm surprised Grady didn't pitch a fit." Sophie shrugs, praying Biana doesn't look closely enough to see the tonic she grabs isn't exactly for cramps.

"I'm definitely leveraging you being able to use one with Dad next time, if Grady and Eda let you then there's no reason I can't-"

"No!" The word is out before Sophie can stop her panicked response. Biana frowns in confusion. "I didn't, um, mention it to them, I'll get in trouble."

"Trouble? It's for cramps, so what if Grady gets mad, Edaline will back you up," Biana's eyes narrow, "It is for cramps, right?"

"Y-yeah" She's cut off by Biana's laughter.

"As if it would be anything else with you, I'm sure we all need to be worried about you and Keefe getting busy" Biana waggles her eyebrows, still laughing. Her giggles fade when Sophie doesn't join in, sudden realization coming across her face. "Sophie Elizabeth Foster, you _didn't_!" Biana's gone slack jawed, starting at her in shock. "Tell me you're joking! You couldn't have, you two . . . you didn't!"

Sophie manages a nervous laugh, gripping her arm sheepishly. Biana's eyes widen further.

"Oh my god you did!" Sophie desperately wishes she'd just teleported off with her five minutes ago, and ducked into Slurps and Burps while Biana tried on dress number 500.

"Maybe? Can we have this conversation later? Stores are closing, remember?" Sophie starts walking towards the cliff edge, perfectly fine with just jumping off of it without teleporting at this point.

"Oh no you don't, and oh no we can't! You sit your ass down missy!" Biana's steel grip is on her wrist again, dragging her down to sit against Calla.

"Biana, the _stores_ , they'll close . . ." Sophie tries one last ditch attempt to get out of this conversation she so desperately does _not_ want to have.

"Fuck shopping, _we are talking about this_." Sophie groans, but Biana's already cross legged across from her.

"I actually have to go to Slurps and Burps Biana please-" Biana cuts her off with a hand wave.

"They close late today, now, talk!"

"About what exactly? What am I supposed to say?"

"Explain! Last I saw you, you were innocent Miss blushes-when-Keefe-holds-my-hand, now you're telling me that they two of you slept together last night!" Sophie shifts uncomfortably.

"I don't think I said those exact words . ." Biana arches an eyebrow, "But they're not . . . exactly . . . wrong" she nearly whispers the last word, shrinking under her friend's stare.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Biana throws up her arms in exasperation.

"Do I need to spell out the questions!? What was it like? How was he? How did it all even start? How big was it? Was that the first time? What did you do?" Sophie manages to cut off the barrage of questions, her face already bright red.

"How big was it?" She blinks at Biana in disbelief.

"You know," Biana waggles her eyebrows.

"Biana!" She hisses, unable to believe what she's hearing, "I am not discussing the size of my boyfriend's dick with you!" Biana rolls her eyes.

"Answer the others then!" Sophie groans, mentally cursing every entity she can think of.

"It was, I don't know, good?" Biana raises her eyebrows.

"Good?" Sophie runs her hands through her hair.

"What do you want me to say? Different? Crazy? Amazing?"

"Amazing!?" She scrubs at her face at Biana's expression.

"Urgh, I cannot verbally express to you how much I don't want to talk about this." Biana gives a mock exasperated sigh.

"Fine, you can leave out the nitty gritty details. At least tell me how it all started."

"I had a nightmare about the Neverseen and all and I was throwing up, and he was comforting me after, and then we were making out and it just . . . escalated." Biana looks skeptical.

"Escalated?"

"Well, like, we'd done stuff before," Biana's eyebrows shoot up, "No not like that, just like, he'd seen me topless or whatever but nothing beyond that, but this time we just . . . didn't stop?" Biana crosses her arms, considering.

"So like, what did you _do_?" Sophie gives her a look.

"Well Biana, when a man and woman love each other very mu-" Biana smacks her arm lightly.

"No you idiot, like what," she pauses, blinking for a second, " _stuff_ did you do?" Sophie squeezes her eyes shut and exhales sharply. Biana's still waiting expectantly for an answer when she opens them, so desperately praying this whole conversation was a hallucination didn't work.

"He kind of did most of it last night . . ." she trails off, unsure how to say anything else that won't make her spontaneously combust on the spot.

"Did he . . .?" Biana waggles her hips. Sophie manages to nod. "Is he good at it?"

"Biana!" Sophie near shrieks.

"Is he?" Biana's leaning forward intently. Sophie has to hide her face in her hands, barely able to mumble a just intelligible "yes" from behind them. Biana shrieks, rolling backwards with laughter. Sophie glares at her.

"You're just enjoying torturing me." She sits back up and grins.

"Maybe. So, he did that but you didn't . . .?" Sophie frowns.

"Didn't what?" Biana makes an obscene jerking motion with her hand.

"BIANA!" Her friend just cackles in response. "Ugh, you are the worst."

"I'm the best actually, now answer the question" Silently resigning to her fate of being forced through this conversation, Sophie chews on her lip.

"I did, but not then-" She cuts herself off, realizing her mistake one word too late.

"Then!? But that was last night, when did you-" Biana shrieks and smacks Sophie's arm.

"Ow! Jeez, I'm gonna have a bruise Biana-"

"That's what you were doing in the shower for so long! Couldn't even keep it in your pants til the end of the day Sophie?" She goes bright red and Biana gives her a wicked grin. "Poor Grady, all his restrictions and you're still a little sluuu-"

"Biana!" Her friend rolls over, shaking with laughter.

"Joking! Hey, I was gonna drag Fitz shopping, at least I didn't bring him today!" Sophie feels all the blood drain from her face.

"Oh shit." Biana stops laughing for a moment to look at her.

"What?" Sophie buries her face in her hands.

"I have cognate sessions with him in three days when school starts again! How am I supposed to hide all of this?" Biana's now laughing so hard she's clutching her sides and shaking. Sophie glares. "This isn't funny Biana! Sneaking the tonic past Kesler and Dex will be bad enough, Fitz will be _in my head looking at my memories!_ How am I ever supposed to talk to him again!?" Biana puts on a mock lecturing face.

"See Sophie, this is why you need to consider all the consequences before engaging in sexual activities" Sophie rolls her eyes, then smirks, considering.

"Still would've." Biana shrieks again, and this time it's both of them laughing.

"Well, I've got three days to bury it with something else or my life ends, got any ideas?" Biana raises an eyebrow at her.

"You and Keefe couldn't keep your hands off each other for a whole morning, you think you'll last three days?" She swats at her, but Biana ducks, grinning. "Come on, we have to get to Slurps and Burps, don't we?" Sophie rolls her eyes before grabbing her arm and jumping them both over the cliff edge, the familiar stretch and snap sensation of teleporting carrying them away.


	3. Chapter 3

Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptap-ta-tap. Sophie's pretty sure she's gone through every song she knows by the time Tiergan walks through the door. Fitz had tried talking to her at first, but her short answers had apparently discouraged him and they'd been sitting in silence ever since. She'd considered just doing everything she could to act normal, but given every previous attempt to do so, silence seemed the better option. Maybe they just . . . could skip the whole looking deep into each other's minds. The entire weekend had been spent on edge, with Sophie trying desperately to come up with a way to hide everything from Fitz. It wasn't so much the fact that they'd _had_ sex, but the fact that he would be able to see her memories of it. Besides the obvious embarrassment and horror, that was also just too . . . _intimate_ to share with someone. It had taken her forever to just be comfortable _kissing_ Keefe in public - in no small part due to the fact that Fitz had never been exactly enthusiastic about their relationship. The whole shitshow had gotten her thinking about the cognate thing in general; it wasn't like she and Keefe were going to stop sleeping together - hell, Biana had pretty much been right about the three days thing, they'd made it two before Keefe decided to "distract" her from her panic about Fitz. Plus at some point Fitz was going to be in a relationship, and she had no wish to see those kind of memories either.

Tiergan gives her a quizzical glance as he sits down, her hands fidgeting like crazy as she tries to resist the urge to tug on her eyelashes. Between the tapping foot, clenched hands and ramrod straight posture, she looks more like she's preparing for open heart surgery than what should have been her favorite class. Tiergan glances between her and Fitz, who's sitting slumped over, staring at the floor. He clears his throat.

"Not sure what's up with either of you, and I have a feeling I don't want to know." Sophie goes bright red at the implication, which probably doesn't help disprove whatever Tiergan's suspicions are.

"Been some late nights, Biana's been going a bit crazy about Matchmaker scrolls and all, sure she's been bothering Sophie about it too." Fitz flashes her a tentative smile, and she mouths a thanks when Tiergan seems to accept his excuse.

"Well then, you'll be happy that today isn't a hard exercise. Part of being cognates is having an understanding of who the other person is, and why they are that way. I'm going to give each of you a list of emotions, and your job is to tap into the other's mind and see the memories they connect to that emotion." Sophie feels her heart plummet into her stomach. She takes a steadying breath. _It's not like the list is going to contain lust or anything, all she has to do is focus enough to keep a few certain memories buried as deep as possible_. Her mind is already racing with methods to avoid revealing anything if love or whatever is on it, and it takes her a moment to realize Tiergan is holding a paper out to her. He raises an eyebrow.

"Must have been a really late night." Blushing, she takes the paper, scanning it. No love, no lust, no desire, no anything. _Safe_. She turns to face Fitz, pushing the rising anxiety as far down as she can, well aware he's about to be prodding at her emotions.

"Ready?" She nods.

"Remember, this exercise works best if you don't try to control the memories triggered, just let your thoughts flow naturally. The goal is to understand _how_ the person's emotions are connected by their memories, not to see that thinking about happiness is connected to eating mallowmelt." Tiergan sits back, motioning for them to begin.

" _What are we starting with then? Or do you just want to go down the list?"_ She hasn't had to put up any mental barriers in a while, and Fitz's voice is jarring out of nowhere in her head.

" _Down the list is fine, you can ask first."_ Anger is the first, showing a barrage of memories about the Neverseen for both of them, along with some stock childhood memories.

" _What exactly is an American Girl Doll, and why did you want one so badly?"_ Stifling a giggle at the memory of her six-year-old self's tantrum, she grins.

" _Fancy doll of a character from a book series I really liked, pretty stupid considering how angry I was."_ He grins in return.

" _Well, you just saw the two-week-long fight Biana and I had over who 'owned' the right to wear purple, so,"_ he shrugs. Concern leads to such a barrage from her memories that Fitz has to pull back from her mind for a few moments, shaking his head.

"I don't know how you function with all that running through your head, jeez." Rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly, she shrugs. Happiness goes fine, with Fitz getting only slightly distant at some of the scenes of her and Keefe. Grief is near equally bad for them, with everyone lost in the war, a particular wave of regret over Kenric and Mr. Forkle settling over both of them. Tiergan winces.

"Sorry, I debated putting that on there, but, well, it's an important emotion to understand in each other." By the time they reach fear, the last on the list, Sophie's anxiety is practically gone. She guesses her and Keefe's more . . . adult activities are tied to too many emotions to be triggered by just happiness or whatever. Fitz goes first, a kaleidoscope of memories from the war, right back to the first time she was kidnapped all those years ago.

" _You were really terrified."_

" _We thought you were_ dead _Sophie, what other emotion did you expect?"_

" _No, it's just . . . it's so vivid, even now."_ He shrugs.

" _Strong enough emotion I guess."_ She feels his touch back in her mind, and takes a deep breath, preparing herself for the flood of memories. The second he transmits the word her mind explodes, a million memories flashing across it. She tries to control it, desperately reaching for the brake, but everything is moving too fast, her first kidnapping, bottling the Everblaze, the time her mind broke, Kenric's death and Fintan's escape, the circlet, it's as if a tsunami has been unleashed in her mind. She's so pushed from any form of control that she can do nothing when the flashing plunges into darkness, and Ruy's voice is rasping in her ear. _No. Not this._ It's too vivid, too sharp for her to handle, and she uses every ounce of strength she can muster to pull back. Everblaze blooms across her mind, then darkness again, icy and needling. No longer a memory of the actual imprisonment, but a nightmare from it. Relieved at having pulled out of that spiral, she doesn't notice the familiar path the memory has pushed down, and by the time she does, it's too late. Everything is on fast forward, a barrage of quick images and snapshotted sensory memories. Cool ceramic presses into her face, a hand on her back, stomach roiling as she shakes on a bathroom floor, Keefe's concerned blue eyes peer at her; neither she nor Fitz has any control as the memory twists, her brain following her command to get as far away from Ruy too far.

" _Sophie-"_ Fitz is cut off by the stream of images, even as Sophie desperately tries to find the off switch, realizing moments too late what night the images are from. Her hands wrap over Keefe's neck, arms around each other and skin to skin, both bare to the waist, her head hits pillows as Keefe straddles her, legs lock over his shoulders as her back arches, spiked high after high as they fall back together into the bed, hot water flows over both and his head jerks back when she drops to her knees-

A black wall of adamant slams down around her mind, throwing Fitz out as she builds it higher and thicker. Burying her head in her hands, Sophie resists the urge to scream. She'd made it so far, was so confident she'd survive the stupid session, and now . . . Fitz has jumped to his feet, the shock of being hurled out of her mind passing, his face twisted in a mix of horror and disgust.

"What the fuck Sophie! Gah, I didn't need to- Jesus! You and Keefe-" Tiergan cuts him off.

"Language Mr. Vacker!" He looks between them, Sophie unable to meet Fitz's eyes and Fitz shaking in anger. "I'm assuming from the mention of Mr. Sencen this is something to do with a relationship. Cognates will likely be in different relationships at certain points, and I expect the two of you to handle it like mature adults. Fitz, if you are unable to handle a memory of two people kissing, then I suggest you seriously rethink your fitness for this." Fitz flings an accusing finger at Sophie.

"That was a whole lot fucking farther than kissing!" Sophie looks up, distraught.

"Fitz-" She starts, just as Tiergan thunders "Language!" again.

"Cognates are required to share everything with each other, meaning you must both accept the idea of sharing more private moments and the reality that you will have them shared with you. If you cannot, you will not be able to have a cognate bond," Tiergan says sternly. Sophie bites her lip, about to ask just how much detail they're supposed to share with each other, her earlier doubts resurfacing when Fitz, who had been seething throughout Tiergan's comment, cuts her off.

"You might have mentioned this at the beginning of our training you know," he hisses. Tiergan arches his eyebrows.

"We did. You were told of all that a cognate bond entails, and both of you agreed-"

"You could have been a bit more clear! _No one mentioned having to watch Sophie fuck her boyfriend and give him a blowjob in the shower!"_ His voice is loud enough by the end that she's pretty sure anyone in the hall heard him.

"Fitz!" Sophie's voice breaks as she shouts. She wants to melt into a puddle right then and there. Unable to even look at whatever Tiergan's reaction was, she manages to mumble something vaguely interpretable to be "Elwin" as she grabs her bag and sprints from the room. There's a lump in her throat and her stomach feels like it's trying to escape up her throat.

Elwin looks up in surprise when she bursts through his door, practically falling onto the bed and burying her face in the pillow. The sobs she's been holding back are coming full force now, and she can't manage to respond as he puts a hand on her shoulder, asking question after question. After about three minutes of lightly shaking her, he sits back and sighs.

"Look, I have no idea what's going on here, but can you at least give my something to put on file? I can't let you stay here without a medical reason." She glances up at him, her eyes already red and puffy.

"Nauseous. Emotional distress. I don't care, if you kick me out I'll just go home," she mumbles dejectedly, her head still reeling. She hears Elwin's steps retreat, and a pen scratching as he makes whatever required file he needs.

She falls asleep at some point, having contemplated getting expelled on purpose so she never has to face Fitz or Tiergan again. Several loud voices wake her up, the sound of arguing drifting through the door.

"Then wake her up! All Fitz would say was that she was probably here and she missed lunch!" Even half-asleep she knows the sound of Biana's trademark imperious annoyed voice.

"When she came in, she was in no state to talk to anyone, and I have no idea what the actual problem is, so I refuse to have you wake her up and start some ballistic Teen Drama fight in my office Biana, I'm sorry." Elwin sounds tired, and she gets the feeling this argument has been going on for a while. Reluctantly, she calls out to him.

"It's fine Elwin, she can come in." Biana's hrmph of victory is loud enough that Sophie can hear it through the door, and her dark head pops in a second later.

"Keefe and Dex are with me, fine if they come in?"

"Is Fitz?" Biana shakes her head.

"He's in some funk, had to needle him for most of lunch to find out where you were."

"Fine if you all come in then." Keefe's next to her in half a second, his fingers twining with hers.

"Don't give me a heart attack like that Foster, you just disappeared without a word." She leans against his shoulder.

"Sorry, I came here after telepathy and I fell asleep." Dex's eyes narrow.

"What did Wonderboy do now?" She opens her mouth to answer, then bites her lip, hesitating at the sight of Elwin leaning in the doorway. He puts his hands up.

"I'm going, I'm going. Door is closed and I'll blast dwarvish yodeling or something." Biana plops down in a chair opposite Sophie, crossing her legs.

"K, the adults are gone, now spill." Keefe squeezes her hand as Biana leans forward, Dex already glaring.

"I- We were doing an exercise with emotions and memories and . . ." She hesitates, trying to figure out how to phrase it without having to spill her private life to Dex as well. "We got to fear, and that nightmare came up, and then I lost control of the stream because there was so much, and it kept going through _that_ night, and the next morning . . ." She hears Keefe's sharp intake of breath, and sees the realization dawn on Biana's face at her emphasis on "that". "He freaked and- He shouted what happened and Tiergan heard and I went by people in the hall when I left and I'm sure they did too and-" Her words start to run together, and she stops to take a breath.

"When you say he shouted what happened, like . . ." Biana trails off, her eyes narrowed.

"Explicitly. _Incredibly_ explicitly." Keefe huffs a breath, muttering several curses.

"Um, I think I'm missing something here." Dex's eyebrows are knitted in confusion. Sophie chews on her lip, unsure how to explain without exactly explaining.

"Remember when Biana and I stopped in this weekend? Maybe I wasn't, exactly, buying a tonic for cramps" Dex just blinks at her. Biana sighs.

"If you find a card with a certain twenty-second letter of the alphabet on it, it's probably Sophie's, cuz she _lost it_." Dex continues to stare in confusion. "The bases have been rounded, _it_ was done, Grady's worst nightmare has been realized . . ." Her friend trails off as Dex's eyebrows only knit further. "My god, how naïve are you Dex?!" He blushes. Biana leans back, scrubbing at her face. "Welp, I'm out, good luck with this one."

"Sophie and I- We, um . . . " Keefe starts, before Sophie sighs, done with the hell that this day has been.

"I slept with Keefe." Dex blinks at her, and she mentally curses, unable to believe he can't figure out what that means.

"I mean, yeah, you guys have been dating for two years and all, people do . . .that," he says slowly, looking between the three of them as if trying to make certain he's understood her. She's taken aback, out of all the reactions she expected from Dex, complete nonchalance was not one of them. "Wait, so you're saying Fitz found out and-"

"Yelled it for half the school, and _Tiergan_ , to hear." Dex's face darkens. Biana nods, her arms folded across her chest.

"Yes, my darling brother and his wonderful anger and impulse control. You'll note that you managed to keep your voice low enough half the world didn't hear, and I had enough sense not to freak out, say, directly in front of Grady." She rolls her eyes.

"I swear Foster, I'm gonna kill him. He's almost nineteen, he can learn to keep his fucking voice down-" Squeezing Keefe's hand, she gently motions for him to calm down.

"I just- How am I ever supposed to look at Tiergan again? I have telepathy with him every day!"

"Tell him Fitz was joking?" Keefe suggests. She laughs bitterly.

"Yeah, sure, that'll work." Biana leans forward to grip her shoulder, giving her a sympathetic smile. Dex glances up at the clock.

"Oh, shit, school's out in like, three minutes." Sophie jumps, sliding over to the sink and mirror, trying to ascertain exactly how much of a mess she looks like.

"Fitz is getting an earful when he gets home, let me tell you Sophie. I just- What the actual hell is wrong with him?" Biana is straightening her skirt, glaring in the direction of the door.

"Oh, don't-" she starts, but Keefe cuts her off.

"He deserves it Foster, 100%." Dex nods in agreement, and she sighs.

"Just . . . don't do it anywhere near your parents." Biana rolls her eyes.

"Unlike my brother, I possess a working brain."

* * *

Sophie flops onto her bed as soon as she gets home, groaning at the thought of moving again. Keefe joins her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and nuzzling her hair.

"You OK?" She nods, turning to face him.

"I'm surprised you weren't angrier, I figured you'd be out to strangle him." His eyes darken.

"Oh, trust me, I am. But," he tilts her chin up, "red puffy eyes and falling asleep crying in the healing center seemed to suggest you needed comfort a lot more than a detailed plan for how much I was going to kill Fitz." She smiles, tucking her head into his neck.

"Thanks." He leans down to kiss her, wrapping his arms over her back and pulling her down on top of him, falling into the pile of pillows at the head of her bed. His leg hooks over hers, and he groans as their hips grind together. Propping herself up with one elbow, she grins down at him.

"Haven't we traumatized Fitz enough?" Fingers twined in the stands of her hair that have fallen over her shoulder, he gives her a lazy smirk.

"Don't think we have, Foster." His eyes are hazy, and his voice has dropped to a pitch that sets her blood on fire. His lips are back on hers in a second, sitting up enough to pull her into his lap. Already she can feel his hands pulling at the hem of her tunic, trying to find the closure on the back. He pulls back for a second, breathless.

"Grady-"

"In one of the far pastures, won't be back til dinner-" They're both gasping for breath in between kisses, her own fingers fumbling at the buttons down his shirt.

"Edaline-"

"With Dex's mom-" He finds the tie at the top of her shirt, half tearing it off while unlacing it. Her tunic slides easily down her arms, pooling to her waist. She's left in only a lacy bandeau, having been necessary to keep her chest from falling out of the low cut top. Keefe's fingers twine with hers, unbuttoning his shirt a lot faster than her fumbling hands. Shifting slightly, she rises enough that he can slip her tunic over her hips and off completely, his shirt following her in quick succession. Her fingers trace the lines of his muscles, gliding over old scars that slice white across him. Fire is sparking through her blood, her skin alight wherever his fingers glide. She shoves him back down into the pillows, nipping kisses across his jaw and down his neck.

He catches her face, moving to flip them, but she puts her weight into her hips, pinning him. His chest is heaving under her, eyes glazed as she smirks triumphantly down at him.

"You're disrupting all my plans, you know." Tingling races through her lower body as his hands trace over her hips, dipping dangerously low.

"Plans?" She arches an eyebrow, dropping her hips tantalizingly low over his own.

"If I remember correctly," his thumb brushes up near the hem of her bra, "I said I wanted to see you in the light."

"Mmhmm" She shifts slightly as his fingers return to tracing over her stomach, trying to force his hand down farther. "Been thinking about it?"

"You," his hand brushes up to trace around her breast over her bra, "have no idea how much I've thought," he leans up to scrape his teeth over a spot on her neck and she has to bite her lip to keep from moaning, "about exactly what I want to do to you." Shit. Between the torturously light touch of his hands and the current look in his eyes, she's pretty sure every drop of blood in her is between her legs. It's his victorious smirk as he moves to flip them once more that snaps her out of it. _Two can play at that game Keefe._ She drops her hips down low enough to brush his arousal, sending his breath hitching. Smiling like a cat as she leans down far enough that his line of sight goes straight down her bra, she slowly, lightly, traces a nail down his stomach.

"I don't suppose you could delay them slightly, could you?" Her voice is like silk as she brushes her lips over his neck. "After all," she purrs into his ear, "maybe I made my own plans." She carefully manoeuvers her leggings off, throwing them aside and straddling him, barely too high to give him the contact he so desperately wants.

" _Shit_ Sophie," he groans, eyes hazy as his gaze rakes over her. She grins, enjoying the look on his face. His mouth opens to make further comment, but she doesn't give him a chance, resuming her featherlight kisses over his neck and jaw, her fingers still tracing gently up and down his chest. Every spot that elicits a moan or buck of his hips she makes a note of, planning on torturing him further with teeth and tongue. He groans, his hands locking over her ass as she brushes her lips over his chest, trying desperately to pull her hips back down over his. Maybe at full strength he would have been strong enough to do it, but right now he's rather distracted by the trail of kisses she's brushing ever so lightly across his hip bones.

"Sophie-" he manages, eyes screwed shut as she gives him a lazy smile and slowly, carefully pulls off his pants, leaving him in boxers under her. Her lips are near their hem, thumb brushing over his thigh, eliciting several curses as drags a finger almost high enough. "Quit. Teasing." Teeth gritted, his head is arched back into the pillow. Batting her eyelashes innocently, she lets a finger drift gently over the bulge between his legs, causing his hips to buck so violently she ends up palming him. Sophie plants an elbow on his hip, preventing him from moving further as she brushes her thumb back and forth, laughing as she feels him twitch under her hand. "Foster if you don't get on with it, there won't be anything to get on with," he warns through groans at her ministrations.

Laughing, she hooks her thumbs under the hem of his boxers, pulling them down so torturously slowly that he's biting his lip by the time she tugs them off his legs. She rolls off him, leaning back up to his mouth to kiss him, her fingers tracing gently just above where he wants her. He gives her a mock glare.

"When the fuck did you become so devious?"

"Devious?" She traces a knuckle gently around the base of him, swallowing his groan by planting her lips over his again. Keefe is moaning her name against her lips as her fingers trace higher, until her thumb is gently circling over his tip, still too lightly to let him finish. Pulling away, she looks down at him, his forehead beaded with sweat and hands clenched at her ministrations.

"Sophie . . . please" he moans, his tone pleading. Laughing gently, she presses her lips to his jaw before finally acquiescing. Shifting backwards until she's at face level with him, she lets her tongue flick out, replacing her thumb on his head. Her planted arms hold his hips down as she continues to drag her tongue and lips over him, still keeping him straining. He's shaking by the time she finally gives in, taking him into her mouth.

"Fuck!" he barks, fingers tangling tight in her loose golden hair. His chest is heaving as he stares down at her, and she gives him another wicked smile before sliding downward as far as she can, something that makes his eyes shut tight once more. She slowly pulls off of him, replacing her mouth with her hand for a moment. Biana had insisted on giving her every tip she could think of - yet another fun conversation - and Sophie waits until Keefe has re-opened his eyes to re-take him, pressing his head against the back of her throat and humming. His hips jerk so violently her arms are thrown off, and her lips meet his base. She manages to pull back before gagging, laughing at his expression. They don't last much longer than that, her earlier teasing having worked a bit too well. She's ready this time when his thrusts become erratic, pulling back far enough she doesn't choke.

His chest is still heaving as she slides back up to kiss him, tucking her head into his shoulder. Brushing a hand through her hair, he gives her an incredulous look.

"Since when are you such an expert at that? We started this like, a week ago." She traces a finger over his arm.

"It helps when your boyfriend is so desperate for you to touch him that he's practically screaming his thoughts at you." He snorts, wrapping an arm over her waist. "Though maybe I also did some . . . light reading on the subject." Not quite the truth, but not exactly a lie. Pressing a kiss just below her ear, he murmurs,

"You should have told me about your research, I could have," he shifts so she's now under him, "helped you take notes." His voice has dropped back into a dangerously low pitch, one that reminds her just how unsated her own desires are. Sensing the shift in her emotions, he gives her a smirk that nearly undoes her alone. "And now, I believe," his lips brush a spot on her neck that makes her back arch, "it's time for some payback." The last word is near growled, as his hands brush teasingly over her ribs to toy with the hem of her bra, and she bites her lip, wondering what exactly she got herself into. His lips drop to the top of her chest, tongue tracing over the ridge of her collarbones. She can feel her breasts stiffen even further under the fabric as he so gently rubs them over her bra. A thumb slips over her nipple, both now stiff enough he can see them through the cloth. She groans as he pinches one lightly, touch still too gentle to provide the friction she needs. One hand drops to her lower back, tracing gently enough to make her shiver, and he takes the opportunity of her back arching to unclip the bandeau. The release of pressure over her breasts is near enough to make her groan, and the way he drags it off slowly enough that the fabric drags over her sides makes her hiss in frustration at his teasing. His fingers trace lightly around the edges of her breasts, and he presses his lips down their center, avoiding anywhere that might satisfy her.

Desperate, Sophie tries to clamp her legs together, needing some, _any_ , form of stimulation, but the second they move an inch she finds them pinned with telekinesis. Keefe gives her a wicked grin, resting his chin on her chest and wagging a finger.

"None of that now Sophie, all in due time." She whines in protest, cut off when he finally palms one breast, squeezing gently. His lips catch the underside of the other, sucking long and hard enough she's sure she'll have a mark when this is all over, his other hand alternating between toying with her nipple. When he finally takes her breast in his mouth, her back arches off the bed high enough that he has to push her down with a hand on her stomach. He grins up at her, lips suctioning back over her, dragging his tongue agonizingly over her nipple. Sophie moans, trying in vain to press her hips against his.

"Kee-efe" she manages, every inch of her on fire at this point. He laughs into her skin, pressing kisses along the underside of her breasts as he switches which one his mouth is on.

"Not enjoying yourself Foster? Should I stop?" He's tracing his lips in wide circles, just past where she needs him.

"Fuck . . . you" she erks out through gritted teeth, regretting her words at his wicked smirk.

"As you wish." He locks his mouth over her breast again, scraping his teeth over her nipple, his other hand circling ever lower on her stomach, electrifying every nerve it brushes. A low moan escapes her lips as he brushes the hem of her underwear, and he curses.

"Shit." They're lip-locked once more as he drags her up so she's half propped against the pillows, releasing the telekinetic lock on her legs enough that he can spread them wider, settling in front of her. He hooks his fingers where the waistband of her underwear meets her hips, tugging slightly, and grinning when even that small movement has her clenching the sheets. Lightning follows his touch as he traces over the outside of her hips, gently brushing over her thighs, still too far from where she needs him. Her panties are completely soaked at this point, and she's pretty sure that if his fingers drift any lower he'll find the same slick on her thighs. His thumb brushes just above where she needs him, his touch sending shocks through her even with the thin material of her underwear. He dips tantalizingly low, then slides his fingers out, tracing the sides of her panties where they hug her thighs. Keefe raises an eyebrow at her, pausing from where his lips are still brushing over her chest.

"There seems to be a small lake forming on your bed, you know." Her breaths are too heavy for her to answer, every inch of her body laser-focused on the finger lazily circling her center. Distantly, she feels his lips lock over hers again, one finger dragging agonizingly slowly up the center of her underwear, lightening the pressure as he circles over her clit. Her chest is shaking against his, shivering from the thin sheen of sweat that covers her skin. Two more fingers join the first, rubbing in gentle wide circles that do nothing but turn her blood hotter.

"Pl-please . . . just-" He cuts her off with a kiss, laughing against her lips as he deftly hooks a finger through her panties, tugging them down to her knees with one sharp motion. Telekinesis pulls them the rest of the way off, hurling them across her bed. His other hand plays with her breast as he drags that one finger up, stopping below that bundle of nerves, tracing gently around it with a wicked grin at her expression. Another is lightly circling her entrance, slipping in a centimeter to tease her every so often. He props himself on an elbow, still lazily rubbing light circles over that nerve, the opposite hand now playing with her other breast. He's smiling when she opens her eyes, a slow, hazy smile as he lets his eyes drift over her.

"I don't know how I keep forgetting how beautiful you are." She attempts to use his distraction to press her hips into his hand, desperately needing more pressure, more friction, more _something._ He locks her hips to the bed telekinetically again, making a tsking noise.

"If . . . you don't . . . pick up the pace . . . you can admire . . . how beautiful . . . I am . . . while I strangle you." Her face is knit in frustration, hair splayed out on the pillow behind her and body still burning with need. Keefe laughs, lowering his mouth back to her breast, his now free hand pulling one of her legs wider. He shifts his hand between her legs, his thumb now pressing up against her clit as he uses it as leverage for the two fingers he gently slips inside of her. She moans his name as he finally gives in, speeding up his ministrations enough to sate some of the wildfire in her veins. His fingers, brushing and crooking over every spot she'd forgotten she had, send her racing towards that edge, and he covers the noise of ecstasy she makes falling over it by kissing her. Tangling her hands in his messy hair, she smiles against his lips, still shaking from the high. Her blood is still fire, and it burns all the hotter when he pulls his hand from between her thighs, sucking on those two fingers to clean them. Laughing, his eyebrows arch at her.

"Well _that's_ an intense emotion." She blushes, his lips trailing over her jaw and lips again. Sick of waiting, she goes to wrap a leg over his and pull his hips over her, only to discover he's completely frozen her in place this time.

"Keefe, what-" His answering grin is sharper than any of Sandor's knives.

"I told you I had plans," he starts kissing down her neck, his hands bracing her thighs open, "You didn't really think that was all of them?" The tone of his voice is enough to send more wetness pooling between her legs, heart pounding as his kisses drop lower and lower, fingers occasionally lightly brushing over her center. Every nerve in her body is following him as he presses his lips to her inner thighs, dropping dangerously close. She groans his name when his tongue finally slides over her, flicking over that bud so quickly and lightly she lets out a strangled noise. His hand joins his mouth, rubbing and brushing wherever his lips and tongue aren't. Every inch of her is alive with heat and pleasure, her moans becoming unintelligible as he clamps his mouth over her clit, sucking in gently as his tongue rubs circles in alternating directions. His name falls from her lips again, a warning as she feels that edge approaching, only for cold, empty air to replace his mouth and hand as he smirks from where he's sat back on his heels. She whines as he leans forward to kiss her again, hands tracing slows circles over her hips and ribs.

"Kee-eeefe . . ." Her arms are still pinned above her; she's able to move only her head.

"You didn't think my plans were so simple, did you?" A thrill races through her body at his words, but he remains where he is, his hands moving to calm her down rather than excite. "You know Sophie," he nips at her earlobe, "I've rather developed a new appreciation for Empathy." Shit. No wonder his movements are so beautifully torturous; he can feel her every emotion and reaction. When he finally deems her soothed enough that his touch won't send her crashing down, his lips trace down to her thighs once more, tongue, teeth and fingers pulling her back to that high's edge once more. Again and again he drags her milliseconds from that release, then leaves her hanging there, balanced directly on that edge. It feels as if she's actually on fire now, his touch sending shocks through her no matter where it is, and her body shaking against the telekinetic restraint. Finally, when her hair is matted to her neck with sweat, every inch of her trembling and her skin sensitive enough that the lightest touch feels like fiery bliss, he doesn't pull away when she hits that edge, instead stilling where he is, a wicked smirk cutting across his face as he looks up, one finger still resting deep inside her. Slowly, deliberately, she feels him push back the tiny hood of flesh over that pearl of nerves, a second before he winks, sealing his lips directly over it at the same time he so slowly pulls out that finger. Lightning sparks in her veins and white spots dance across her vision as she plummets over that edge. Every instinct is to clench her legs around him, to bury her hands in his hair and buck her hips, but all she can do lie there with a storm crashing through her, spasming as she clenches around nothing. It's as if she's grabbed an electric fence and been stuck to it, but the current is made of exquisite, neverending pleasure.

She doesn't know exactly when it ends, but regains an awareness of something besides her own blood pounding when he releases the telekinesis. She sits up, shaking so much she doubts she could walk if she wanted to. Keefe peers at her, concern sparking in his gaze.

"You good-" He's cut off when she wraps her arms tight around his neck, lips crashing against his. A moment later, his arms twine around her back, deepening the kiss as they press chest to chest. They surface for air a minute later, her hair even further mussed by his hands.

"Keefe- Fuck. I- Holy shit." She shakes her head, unable to find the words. The smirk on his face has no small part of male satisfaction.

"I know. I felt it." He nuzzles his chin against her hair, his hands tracing from her hips to her breasts and back. Shifting in his lap pushes her against his own hips, his reignited arousal obvious. She drops a hand between them, grinning at him.

"Shall we?" Too late, she catches the look in his eye, a second before he twists her around, braced on her knees with her back against him. His erection presses against her ass, one hand cupping her breast and the other gripping her hip. His fingers brush over her nipple, squeezing sharply enough that she moans.

"You know Sophie, I read somewhere that the more times you go over that edge, the easier it is," his voice is practically a purr as he whispers to her between kisses to her neck, "Care to test that theory?" His hand drops between her legs once more, skipping his usual teasing and sending her plunging towards ecstasy as fast as he can. Every inch of her is still sensitive as all hell, but between her legs . . . It takes him maybe ten seconds to get her begging incoherent from his touch. Slowly, he shifts his hand higher, until his fingers brush over her clit only, the reason why is revealed a second later when he shifts so that he's sliding over her center, head gently parting her slick folds. She throws her head back, near howling from the stimulation. The finger toying with the apex of her thighs hits the exact right angle and she goes soaring into that high, at the same moment Keefe thrusts up, seating himself in her to the hilt. The added friction of her tightening walls as he begins thrusting sends her into a silent scream, too far gone to summon any sound. She feels the pleasure begin to fade, their position keeping him from moving as hard and fast as she needs, and she manages to turn herself back to face him, shoving him down onto the bed and meeting his thrusts with her own, riding him as well as she can with every muscle in her body still trembling. Both of them lose track of the time, lost in pleasure until he pulls her hips down, spilling himself a few moments after she comes crashing down from her own high. Sophie collapses on top of him, neither able to summon words.

It's hours later that a sharp knock wakes both of them, Grady's irritated voice coming through.

"Dinner's ready you two! And for the last time, no locked doors!" Gently pushing herself up, she rolls off of Keefe.

"Out in like, five, sorry! I didn't know the door was locked!" The truth actually, though from the slight flush on Keefe's cheeks she suspects he had locked it at some point during their earlier activities. Grady can be heard stomping back down the stairs, muttering something about teenagers. Keefe brushes her hair out of her face, giving her a gentle kiss.

"Everything good?" She smiles, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment before grabbing a pair of pajamas off the ground by her bed.

"After that? Good doesn't quite capture it." Pushing off the bed after tugging on the soft, white halter top, she goes to take a step, only for her _still_ shaking legs to betray her, nearly dumping her back on the bed. Keefe bursts out laughing and she glares.

"I'll take that as a yes." Rolling her eyes at his grin, she manages to steady herself enough that Grady doesn't begin interrogation number 754 during dinner.

* * *

She's out by Calla, practicing levitating the next morning, when he shows up. Sophie bites her lip, dropping to the ground and crossing her arms at the figure of Fitz Vacker. He stops maybe two meters away, running a hand across his hair.

"Hey." Anything else will distract her from the monumental effort to keep her cheeks from going bright red at the thought of their last meeting together.

"I just- I wanted to apologize. For yelling. I didn't mean to upset you like that." Already his apology is setting off alarm bells in her head, but she attributes it more to the look of deep discomfort on his face at talking about this. She nods.

"I- I get it Fitz, I'd freak out too." Biting her lips, she steels her nerves and adds, "But you sounded _angry_ at me about it. You know," she pauses, "You know I didn't do that on purpose, right?" He puts his hands up, eyes wide.

"No! I know that! I wasn't angry, I was just concerned and I freaked." She frowns.

"Concerned?" She wonders if he means the nightmare.

"I mean, it's not the smartest thing to do . . ." Her eyes narrow. She could let it go, should if she wants to just forget about it, but shoving the problem under the rug has just made it worse so far.

"Why not? I survived a war Fitz, I think I can handle my boyfriend." He shrugs.

"I don't know how humans are, but elves- Well, I mean, it's not really a serious relationship and all." The alarm bells are ringing louder.

"We're seventeen, we've been dating for two years, we fought through a war together and I love him. What do you mean it's not a serious relationship?" He throws his hands in the air.

"You started dating him like, two months after you told me you had been in love with me for years! You couldn't even kiss him in public until a year into your relationship!" And here they go again.

"I told you I had a crush on you, not that I was in love with you Fitz. And you said you needed time to process your feelings, so I gave you it, and you went silent about it for two months, _so I got over it and moved on_. I told you because it was a secret that was hurting our cognate relationship, I don't even know how true it was then. And as for the kissing thing," she points an accusing finger at him, "that was because you used any show of affection between us to guilt-trip us, me, your friend, and Keefe, your best friend who was going through _horrible_ shit with his family!" He leans forward, grabbing her wrist.

"But he isn't- Sophie, I've been inside your head, I know how you feel about me!" His eyes are wide. "You're on my scroll, at number one, I'm sure I'm on yours-" She pulls back.

"I burned my scroll Fitz. Without opening it." Blinking, his eyebrows furrow.

"Why? Did you drop it or- Whatever, you can just get another one-"

"I burned it because I don't care about it! I don't-" Cutting off, she steps back, biting her lip. "I don't love you Fitz. I don't know if I ever did. Not like that at least." Her arms are wrapped around her sides, and when she sees the cold look in his eyes, she knows the line in the sand that she just drew might as well be the Mariana Trench.

"Do you know what you'd be without me? Without my support when you got here? _Nothing._ You'd be the pariahs of pariahs, lost and alone without that connection to me, to my name. _I_ brought you here, _I_ helped you with your abilities, _I_ comforted you when you were terrified and upset because Keefe ran off and joined the Neverseen. _I've_ actually been there for you!" he seethes, anger cooling to ice when she raises her chin at him, refusing to give an inch. "Fine. Go suck off your boyfriend then. Let someone else pretend you're normal for a bit, that you aren't some aberration here. Traitor and the freak, you two are meant for each other. At least then he has someone who cares about him." The flat, cold tone of his voice wavers on the last comment, as if even he knows it's too far, but he's already glittering away before she can reach him, livid anger painted on her face.

* * *

Thunk. Another knife goes spinning into the wooden target Grady made for her during her training, landing perfectly on the innermost circle. She'd kept up with that training, using it as a stress coping method and having the sinking feeling she'd need it again one day. The Council had stopped by once and interrupted her, shock on their faces at the fact that she was still practicing. Emory had insisted it was a waste of her time, the war was over, and she'd stared him down, answering that she'd seen plenty of evil during that war that had started long before the word Neverseen existed. He hadn't liked that. Neither had Alina. Or Nolan. Or a good half of the Council. They'd rescinded the invitation for her position as Emissary. The invitation she'd ripped into pieces and lined Iggy's cage with the second she got it.

Thwack. She'd aimed for the edge of the target this time, a throw used to clip someone running.

"Ahem." She turns, instinct leaving her hand dropping to the hilt of the next knife before she recognizes Grady. He raises an eyebrow at her. "You've been out here for almost three hours kiddo, everything alright?" He's right. She can feel the fatigue seeping through her; she'd run for two miles, then gone through the training course twice, and had been practicing her throwing ever since. None of it had taken the edge off her anger at Fitz.

"Yeah," she gives her dad a weak smile, "just friend stuff." His eyebrows drop in suspicion.

"Boy stuff?"

"Sort of?" She's not what to refer to it as besides Reasons to Punch Fitzroy Vacker Right Square in the Face. Grady's face darkens, and he glances up toward her bedroom window. "Not Keefe," she quickly clarifies, and he relaxes slightly.

"Wouldn't have anything to do with Fitz showing up three hours ago and asking where you were? Or the call from Elwin yesterday that you'd gone to the healing center in the middle of your telepathy session?" She sighs.

"It's nothing I can't handle Dad, don't worry." Grady shakes his head, turning to walk back in the house.

"Last time you said that, it was before you nearly died fighting a bunch of terrorists. If you're not going to tell me who I need to feed to Verdi, at least come in and get breakfast, and go wake up Mr. Sleeps-til-Noon-on-the-Weekends." Sophie smiles, heading towards the stairs to her room.

Keefe had pried her for details when she mentioned Fitz stopped by, but well aware that his friend's parting comment would shred him, and that if she left it out, the rest of his tirade would send Keefe storming to Everglen to kill him. There was a time when those comments would have torn her apart, but now . . . Not every mark the war left was a scar, and she walks straighter now, a permanent challenge set in her gold-flecked eyes. She dressed, moved, spoke, existed with a confidence that hadn't been before, the rare true kind that turns insults and attacks to water droplets on oil. The training was part of it, burning the doubt that had twisted her legs when she tried to pivot, pulled her crashing to the ground with any aerial move, to nothing but the shadow of ash.

She'd gone back to Calla after breakfast, needing some space to breathe. There's a restlessness in her, one stretching and pulling at her bones as she bounces on the balls of her feet, peering at the horizon. She'd heard of it in the Forbidden Cities, veterans returning from a war and being unable to lay down the fight. It shouldn't have mattered; the fight was far from over. The war might as well have been a dropped match on a rug covering a pit of everything wrong with Elven society, a pile of tinder that would spark the second the next Neverseen came along if no one cleared it away and fixed the damn hole. She'd mentioned it to Alden, ready to strangle the Council after they'd ignored her argument again. He'd only told her to _give it time_ , _let the world get back to normal before you go shaking things back up_. None of the adults seemed to get it. But she saw it in the haunted faces of children, in the bitter determination of their older siblings, the quiet, humming energy that simmered higher every time the Council mentioned normalcy, or a return to peace, or the end of this chaos and terror, as if the Neverseen had fallen out of the sky.

Her reverie ends a moment later when arms snake around her waist, Keefe's chin now resting on her shoulder.

"Practicing your stoic rebel leader stance Foster? Or you just get tired of hurling knives at a target you're pretending is Fitz." He arches an eyebrow at her, face suggesting her handwaving at breakfast had only postponed an explanation. Sighing, she turns to face him.

"If I tell you, you have to promise not to go after him. And," she continues, cutting off the protest he's already started, "you have to promise you'll remember everything he says is complete and utter bullshit, and he's saying it because he's angry, not because he believes it." Keefe's eyes narrow, but he nods.

"I promise." He's biting his lip to keep himself from interrupting so hard she's surprised his teeth haven't gone through it by the time she's done. Leaning back against Calla, she watches as he paces back and forth, hands twisting through his hair, hands clenched. She can't make out what he's muttering, but the fact that it involves him intermittently kicking a nearby rock in anger suggests it isn't exactly complimentary. Finally, he turns to her, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I . . . He just . . . Christ, Foster!" He slumps down next to her. "What the fuck is _wrong_ with him?" Secretly, she's happy this is his reaction, anger is a lot better than taking what Fitz said to heart.

"He's angry and hurt. And this is what he does when he's angry and hurt." She picks at some lint on her pajama shorts. Keefe's staring at her in shock.

"How are you just so calm about this?" Sighing, she sits back, stretching her legs out in front of her.

"Remember when Alden broke? Remember when we started dating? Remember when Biana got hurt on a mission that went wrong?" She snorts. "Remember _yesterday_? It's how our fights have always gone. I don't care about _what_ he said - well, not most of it - I care _that_ he said it. I care that he still hasn't learned to take a deep breath and _think_ before he opens his mouth. I care that the second an argument goes too close to something that scares him, he goes for the throat to get out of it."

"He's always been like that. Only person he doesn't do it to is Biana, cuz she bites back just as hard." She frowns in concern at him. "I've never been on the receiving end, least not before all of this shit, but I've seen him do it plenty. He never means it, usually apologizes like, a week later." She shrugs.

"Shitty behavior isn't less shitty because you apologize for it." He leans against her.

"You should make a quote book, Foster," he sighs, lying down with his head against one of Calla's roots. She smiles, joining him and laying her head on his chest, turned so her hips are against his bent knees. Her hair is still damp from the shower she took before breakfast, and he twines a strand around his finger. She bats him away, re-straightening her hair.

"Quit it!" She shoves him playfully. "You're gonna make it curl." Growing her hair out had just caused more problems; if she wasn't careful letting it dry, she'd end up with a mane of half curled waves that got in the way of everything. He grins down at her.

"What's wrong with the curls?"

" _You_ don't have to try and deal with them," she grumbles. Laughing, he runs a hand through her hair, brushing it up from under her back. "And," she adds, tilting her head back to look him in the eye, "you constantly messing with my hair makes it hard enough to deal with when it's straight." He claps a hand to his chest in mock insult.

"Moi? I am the hair _expert_." Smirking, she darts a hand up to his head, mussing his trademark style.

"Ah! You fiend!" He clamps his hands over his head, trying desperately to undo the damage, glaring down at her cackling face. "You'll pay for that!" Her eyes widen and she scrambles to get away as he tickles her.

"Keefe! Gah, ah-H . . .Stoooop!" She's writhing on top of him, his wicked grin growing with every plea for mercy. He finally stops when she digs a flailing elbow into his ribs, yelping indignantly at her.

"Ow! Cruel witch!" Smiling, she twists to reach up to his face, meeting his lips as he braces a hand under her back. Tender this time, different from their gasping, desperate embrace the day before. Her hands have just tangled in his hair to pull him down when someone clears their throat. They jump apart, guiltily, at the sight of Grady standing a few feet away, who rolls his eyes at the sight of their expressions.

"So sorry to interrupt, but I think Sophie's imparter is going to buzz its way through the floor if she doesn't answer Biana's hails." He holds out the offending device. She groans inwardly at that, guessing at an interrogation about why Fitz came home more upset or something.

"Couldn't you just mute it?" Grady raises an eyebrow.

"If I mute it, can you guarantee she won't be at our door in two minutes knocking like she's trying to imitate a woodpecker?" Sophie winces.

"No," she sighs dejectedly, straightening up and mentally preparing to deal with her friend.

She's barely touched the imparter after Grady leaves to return to working with the verminion - he's still convinced he can make it cooperate with other animals - when it begins buzzing like crazy in her hand. Biana's impatient face appears, huffing in annoyance.

" _There_ you are. I was like, a minute away from just showing up at Havenfield, but then," she pauses, grinning, "I figured you might not be answering because you were _busy_." She waggles her eyebrows and Sophie's cheeks tinge. Keefe snorts from behind her. Biana runs a hand over her hair, straightening herself. "OK, so explanation now. My brother went over to apologize because I yelled at him for like, three hours last night, and he came back in a worse mood, didn't answer my questions - rude - then slammed his bedroom door shut and hasn't come back out since." Sighing, Sophie twists a strand of hair loosely around her fingers.

"We had a really bad argument because he gave a shitty apology and then went on another tirade." Biana raises her eyes to the ceiling, muttering an oath under her breath.

"I swear Sophie, he's the most thickheaded dolt I've ever met, I'm going to kill him."

"Don't. You'll just make things worse, just let him cool off and realize what an asshole he was on his own." Keefe rolls his eyes.

"I'm starting a betting pool, I say three weeks. Anyone think two?" His tone is dripping sarcasm, and Sophie bites her lip to keep from laughing.

"If he hasn't apologized after three weeks I'll _make_ him apologize, he can't just-" Biana cuts off, frowning. "Oh shit, I have to go, Linh's calling, good luck with all this shit." Her image shimmers, then vanishes. Sophie leans back against Keefe, closing her eyes.

"So, we have a plan?" He wraps an arm around her waist.

"Yeah, lock him in a room with the verminion." She makes a tsking sound.

"An actual plan."

"Nope." She smiles, nuzzling her head into his shoulder.

"Good, then we can stay here and not think about dealing with it." He laughs, leaning his head over hers.

* * *

Sophie drops her tray on the cafeteria table, exhausted. Bronte had been trying to get her to separate physical from mental energy, which so far at involved sprinting up and down the stairs of the Silver Tower and then trying to Inflict. Biana, Linh and Tam join her a second later, Dex already at the table, fiddling with some gadget on his wrist. A pair of arms slide around her waist, Keefe resting his chin on her head. Biana pulls a face.

"Ugh, get a room you two." Sophie sticks her tongue out as her boyfriend slips into the seat next to her, pecking her on the cheek with a wink at Biana.

"Oh that is _not_ going to help you guys's case." Marella plops her bag down on the table, perching in her seat. The girl never sits or lies down anywhere in a manner that suggests she plans to stay there long. It's anxiety-inducing, really. She reminds Sophie of spies from the Cold War films her dad used to watch, where informants are always looking over their shoulders because assassins are after them.

"Our case?" Marella rolls her eyes at Keefe's puzzled expression.

"You haven't heard? God you guys are out of the loop." She spears a piece of green tuber with her fork, shaking her head at the rest of the table. "Stina's told like, half the school that the reason you and Fitz are fighting is he walked in on you two fucking in a broom closet on the third floor." Tam chokes on his food, glaring at Marella.

"Great topic of conversation at lunch. Love it," he mutters darkly under his breath. Sophie closes her eyes, sighing.

"How'd she even-"

"Everyone figured out you guys are fighting cuz he didn't go anywhere near you yesterday at Study Hall and Keefe and Biana were glaring at him, and I think she just went from there." Jensi's mile a minute speech interrupts Sophie's question. Keefe shoots her a worried glance.

"You don't think she actually overheard that da-" Marella's fork clatters to the table, staring open-mouthed at them.

"Don't tell me Stina's actually telling the truth!" Sophie's face is the color of her lunch tray.

"No! Fitz and I got in a fight in telepathy about . . . some stuff," Linh smirks, elbowing Keefe, and her brother mimes gagging, "And Fitz was yelling, she might have overheard what he said if she was in the hallway, but the rest of the story is complete bullshit." Keefe nods.

"Yeah, the third floor doesn't even have a broom closet, the closest one is up the second staircase on the right on the _fourth_ floor, and it could barely fit one eleven year old, forget two seventeen year olds." The entire table slowly turns to look at Keefe. "What?" Dex glances back and forth.

"Do you just . . . have an encyclopedic knowledge . . . of the school's broom closets?" Keefe shrugs.

"I've only actually been caught for like, 40% of my pranks. I had to hide somewhere." Sophie frowns.

"I didn't even know this school _had_ broom closets." Biana grins, waggling her eyebrows.

"Maybe Keefe can show you, make at least one of the things Stina has said in her life true." Sophie reaches for her glass of water, ready to threaten her friend with it.

"Biana if you don't shut it and change the topic of conversation right now I will dump my lunch tray over your head." Tam beats her to it. The dark-haired girl rolls her eyes.

"You guys are _no_ fun." Keefe points at her with his fork.

"Says the girl who once threatened me with death for eating mallowmelt in her room." Biana huffs.

"I had just gone shopping! You," she arches a judgemental eyebrow, "are not trustworthy in the not-spilling-on-my-new-clothes department." Keefe throws his hands in the air.

"Linh was lying down _on top of one of the dresses_ eating mallowmelt!" Biana raises her chin, defiant.

" _Linh_ is trustworthy." Glowering, Keefe mutters something about a conspiracy.

"Not to interrupt this horribly important conversation, but are we just going to ignore . . .?" Tam jerks his head in the direction of Fitz's empty seat.

"Absolutely." Biana stabs a piece of food and chews defiantly at Tam, daring someone to contradict her. Dex arches an eyebrow.

"Forever?"

"Until he gives an actual goddamn apology." Sophie tilts her head in agreement with Keefe. Marella chews on her lip, considering them.

"Dare I ask _why_ we're missing our former favorite golden boy?"

"He gave the world's crappiest apology for the shit he pulled in that telepathy session, then basically threw a fit and he's still sulking." Biana's summary is pretty accurate, Fitz hasn't so much as breathed a word to Sophie since, just sending her occasional glares. Hell, she doesn't even know where he's been eating lunch. She's debated seeking him out, but realized that if he doesn't want to apologize - or rather, hasn't realized he needs to - then it will just make the fight worse. She drums her fingers on the table, thinking. Keefe nudges her with his elbow, tilting his head. _You OK?_ Between them they've developed a sort of silent language, a mix of Empathy and Telepathy. _Yeah_. She has Telepathy this afternoon, the first time since "The Incident". Facing Tiergan will be bad enough, dealing with Fitz . . . She has a feeling they'll be given the "Language!" warning a lot.

* * *

Sophie doesn't know how long she stands outside the door to the Telepathy room before she finally gathers the courage to enter. She'd doubted Fitz would show up, but the sight of his empty chair still feels like a bucket of cold water dumped on her, a stark reminder of just where their friendship is at this point. Tiergan glances up at her, clearing his throat.

"Ah, one of my pupils has chosen to show up. And only," he glances at the clock on the wall, "fifteen minutes late." Wincing, she hurries to sit down.

"Sorry, I . . ." she bites her lip before continuing, "Fitz and I got in a fight and we haven't really . . . been talking." Tiergan arches his eyebrows, and she notes the slight tinge of color on his cheeks as he coughs.

"Believe me, I remember." Shit. Their second fight had been bad enough that what Tiergan had heard had slipped her mind.

"I- um- _Another_ fight. About that one. Regrettable things were said." Tiergan nods.

"I figured. This came about twenty minutes ago." There's a scroll in his outstretched hand, stamped with the Council's seal and addressed to her. Hesitantly, she opens and scans it.

 _By request of Fitzroy Vacker, all cognate training between himself and Sophie Foster will hereby cease, due to irreparable relationship differences._

She has to read it a few times before it sinks in.

"He . . . he asked to stop our training?" Tiergan opens his mouth, preparing to offer comfort, before she adds, " _Through the mail!?_ " He winces at her tone. "What kind of cowa- Couldn't even have Biana tell me." Pressing her lips together, she takes a deep breath.

"I take it this isn't entirely unexpected." Sophie resists the urge to tug out another eyelash.

"I was debating whether it was a good idea, we just . . . I don't think we could handle it." Tiergan's face is impassive.

"I think when the two of you are back on speaking terms, that will need to be the first conversation you have." Surprised, she glances up at him. "Unless you think this request was filed with honest motivation and not due to your current disagreement." She thinks it has everything to do with Fitz trying to convince her he's truly not going to apologize this time, but she's surprised Tiergan picked up on it. "Now," he folds his hands together, "can you think of anything you want to work on? I don't have a lesson ready, obviously." He gestures at the scroll. Running through the long list of Telepathy skills she's read about, Sophie debates if her question is even worth asking.

"Is there anything I could do to help prevent nightmares? Or mitigate them?" Sighing, Tiergan drums his fingers on the arm of his chair, eyes closed in consideration.

"There is, but it's hard, and it requires someone else's help. I can provide it, of course, but I don't know how comfortable you'd be with me doing so."

"No." The word is practically out of her mouth before he finishes speaking. "I'm sorry, but I just . . . I don't think I'd make it through that." Holding his hands up, he makes a motion of peace.

"I wouldn't expect you to say yes Sophie, I've heard about your experiences during the fight with the Neverseen." Even at just that, she has to clamp down on memories of fire and shadow clawing towards her. An idea occurs to her.

"Could Keefe do it?" Tiergan blinks. "I mean, he's not a Telepath, but would it be possible?" Her mentor considers.

"He may be able to, I can give you the process for it at the very least." She breathes an inner sigh of relief, praying Keefe can in fact help.

* * *

It's two months later that she's folded against Keefe on her bed, half reading, half skimming through one of her textbooks. His own studying was going less well, he'd made it three pages into one of the Empathy textbooks his father wrote before chucking it across the room, followed by several curses. She didn't blame him. She'd tried reading one of the books, and had barely made it through one page before she wanted to gag from the pure egotism Lord Cassius's words dripped with. Hell, she actually likes telepathy and the words are still swimming on the page in front of her. Sophie's about to flop back on the bed in defeat when she feels someone tap against her mental shields. Hackles rising immediately, she lowers the shields a centimeter, enough for a message to get through without letting anyone's claws into her mind.

" _Sophie?"_ Squeezing her eyes shut in frustration, she debates slamming her shields back up and letting Fitz deal with it.

" _What."_

" _Can we talk? Outside?"_ Great. This routine again.

" _Too much of a coward to come upstairs?"_ Silence. Good, maybe he left.

" _Please. It's . . . it's important."_ Sighing, she supposes the only way to make him leave is going to be going out there and telling him to. Keefe is passed out on her bed; hopefully he'll stay that way until she comes back. Grady arches an eyebrow when she says she's going out to see Calla - which, considering it's pitch black and pouring out, is fair. Still, no one stops her as she ducks out the door, waving a hand to telepathically shield herself from the rain.

He's leaning against the stables, looking suitably uncomfortable for the situation.

"Hey." He gives her a weak smile, which she doesn't return.

"Whatever it is, I don't care, Fitz. Go home." Wincing, he puts his hands up in surrender.

"I deserve that, but please, just listen for a minute. I want to apologize." She resists the urge to roll her eyes.

"You said that last time. Fun times. Lots of apologizing." The wind is picking up, hurling rain against her shield.

"I know. I was a dick, and I'm sorry. You didn't deserve any of it, and I didn't mean any of it, and I shouldn't have said any of it. I just . . . I got angry, and I freaked out, and you called me on it and I've just been a stubborn idiot about it for the past two months." Fine. So they're doing this.

"And that's what you said last time. And the time before that. And the time before that. You don't get to throw daggers at me every time you get angry and then turn around and pretend to apologize when you're sick of fighting." He winces at her words.

"I know. I . . . I'm gonna work on it. I snap and I cross the line- cross a lot of lines. But this one, I . . . I shouldn't have even _been_ angry. You didn't do anything wrong, our telepathy exercise just went wrong, and I acted like you'd attacked me or something." He kicks at the ground, glancing down. "This wasn't a fight, it was me being an asshole to you for two months. And you have every right to not accept my apology, but I want you to know I really am sorry." He sounds it, for once. Closing her eyes, she sighs.

"I miss having you as my friend Fitz. I can't remember the last time we could just _be_ friends without some barrier between us, and I miss that, so if you're truly willing to work on it, then I guess I am too. I'll accept your apology - conditionally." He brightens slightly at her words, giving her a hopeful smile.

"I don't deserve that, but thanks. And I know I was the immature brat who called it off, but maybe we can go back to cognate sessions?" And here's the moment it's all going to shatter again.

"No." He blinks in surprise.

"If you want to wait I get it-"

"I mean no permanently, Fitz." Sophie sighs. "The vulnerability, the trust, I can't give you that, can't turn it over when this keeps happening. How am I supposed to give you my secrets when you hurl them back in my face when we fight?" His eyes widen.

"But if I work on that, stop doing it, maybe in the future can't we go back? I want to be cognates, Sophie, I really do." This isn't going to be easy.

"Fitz . . . honestly? That's only part of it. I don't think either of us understood what we were getting into all those years ago, what we were signing on to. I certainly didn't, not compared to how I understand it now. I just . . . I mean, are you really comfortable having to share everything? Every time I sleep with Keefe or every secret I share with Biana or every moment I have with my family?" And there it is. The slight blink, the flash of unease that flickers across his face at her words. "I'm sorry, but I just can't do that."

"Sophie-" She's hurting him, she can see it.

"It wasn't just this Fitz, I'd been having doubts before, this was just . . . the final straw I guess." She hates the look of shock and hurt on his face, hates that they were so close to being back to normal, but she can't back down on this. "I'm sorry." He's still standing there when she turns back to the house, slumped in the rain, his face half torn between hurt and anger.

Keefe sits up when she steps through the doorway, relief in his eyes.

"Yeesh Foster, don't vanish like that. Thought the textbook had swallowed you." Smiling, she drops down onto the bed next to him.

"Sorry." He props himself up with one arm, tilting his head at her.

"So, where did you vanish off to in the middle of the night and pouring rain?"

"Fitz wanted to talk." His eyes darken.

"Talk." Sighing, she leans back against the pillows.

"He apologized. _Actually_ apologized this time." Keefe's expression is unreadable.

"So are you guys good?" There's a loaded question.

"Maybe. Kind of? He wanted to restart being cognates and . . . I don't. Ever. Even if he keeps his word and stops pulling this shit, I'm done with it." He tilts his head at that, peering up at her.

"So are we letting him back to the lunch table?" She frowns.

"He still owes _you_ an apology." Keefe shrugs.

"He only said that shit about me to get to you Foster, if you're good with him, I'm good."

"Keefe. He still owes you an apology." Her boyfriend just shrugs again, and she lets it drop, not wanting to get into this right now. They sit in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rain pound against the windows.

"So . . . you done studying?" She laughs at the look on his face.

"If I look at that book any more I'm going to go insane, so yeah, I guess I am." He grins.

"Good." Pulling himself up next to her, he wraps an arm around her waist and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Cuz you have all weekend to study, and I want some quality time with my amazing girlfriend." Laughing, she rests her head on his shoulder, settling against the warmth of his body.

"Last time it was wondrous, did you buy a thesaurus when I wasn't looking?" He flashes her a smile.

"Nah, I just look at you and the words appear in my head." She elbows him.

"Flirt." Arching an eyebrow, he grins down at her.

"So you don't find my charm irresistible?"

"I didn't say that," she murmurs, arching her chin up to kiss him, happy to spend the rest of the night curled up with him, safe from the howling wind and rain outside.

 **A/N So. Hi. I actually do have a reason for vanishing this time, I was in France for a month with an exchange program, and had like, no wifi, hence I could not update. Hopefully the extra long chapter makes up for it ^^. I have another one almost done, and ideas for at least two more, but school starts again soon and I have so much shit to do in the fall that it's probably gonna get sporadic again . . . sorry. Love y'all, thank you so much for the reviews!**


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